Horoscopes. The "Things We Never Tire Of" Edition

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): A friend told me that she never gets tired of people toggling blue ribbons on dowels to give the impression of water.  At first I thought it was ridiculous.  But then I remembered that I never get tired of it either.  I will never be heard saying, "whoa, I'm so damn tired of people waving the blue ribbons on dowels -- when will it stop?"  Pisces, you water-y sign, conjure water in whatever ways you can.  And never tire of water.  It's all we've got.

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):   I never tire of popcorn, Aries, and I hope you don't either.  I wish it were considered real food instead of merely a movie snack.  It magically transforms from a hard yellow kernel to a white piece of fluff, which is what I hope will happen to me one day.  Then there's taste, salt, texture, and handy size.  When I was in college I had a friend who used popcorn as a litmus test for friendship.  "She's okay, but I wouldn't have her over for popcorn."  Which makes sense -- popcorn is a little more intimate than a taco.  Aries, this week, make popcorn-worthy friends and do what you can to keep them.  Our lives are only as good as the people we cherish.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  The invisible, transparent wall on the Mexican border is all done.  That is some fast government work!  I'm glad they made it invisible, because, as the POTUS reminds us, people are constantly heaving 60 pound satchels of drugs over the wall, and you could put someone's eye out with that!  I think you could put someone's eye out with this administration, Taurus, so that's not your horoscope.  No sirree.  Because that would be wrong.  Here you go.  I never get tired of watching William Wegman movies.  Especially the Hardly Boys, but I don't think you've got that kind of time (27 minutes). 

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  Did you ever watch Lost?  I watched season one and two and got super interested, and then it got more and more complicated and dystopian, and I couldn't follow it.  That's a bit like what's going on with the White House.  Things are happening so fast, and there are so many random players brought in for just one episode (like The Mooch!) that I want to go back to Season One again.  But what I never get tired of, Gemini, is seed catalogs.  And seeds themselves.  Imagine, all that potential stored in a tiny little capsule.  Which, Gemini, reminds me of you!  So much potential.  Sprout!

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  But there's another wall that I'd like to talk about, this super ugly wall going up in my neighborhood. Something there is that doesn't love a 6 foot tall plastic fake rock wall.  My question for you, Cancer (oh wait!  That's not how horoscopes are supposed to go.  But these are special times, and Cancer, you're particularly special.)  So, what's the most effective way to get the designers of the invisible wall to contact my neighbor?  Back to your horoscope, Cancer.  I never get tired of changes of state: condensation, evaporation, freezing.  Oh, and mushrooms.

Happy little disco bee

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  One thing I never get tired of is the joke setup involving some collection of people or creatures walking into a bar.  "A guy walks into a bar.  The bartender says..."  But I saw a particularly hilarious the other day: A lawyer, a spy, a mob boss, and a money launderer walk into a bar. The bartender says: "you guys must be here to talk about adoption." Leo, talk about adoption in the most unlikely situations. This week, adopt a good attitude, a stray kitten, or a starving artist.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): I never get tired of seeing people act out celestial events.   I have a vague memory of trying to explain the solstice to a group of kindergarteners using a flashlight, a handful of children, an orange, and a basketball.  I can laugh quietly in my head just thinking about it, 20 years later.  Virgo, this week, bring back the planetary skit.  See if you can inspire random groups of people to revolve around an orange.

Mason bee in dark times

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  I never get tired of hearing about the path of totality, where the planet will turn dark, animals will catch a 2-minute nap, birds will sing bedtime songs, and humans will wear cardboard sunglasses.  And to think our tiny little moon is responsible!  Libra, this is a great bit of inspiration.  The moon can stop the sun, which is 400 times its size, in it's tracks!   Okay, actually, I get a tiny bit weary of the Path of Totality, even though I'm so very excited about the eclipse.  So I'll change this 'scope to something a little more surefire:  the scene in Monty Python where they use the coconuts for hoofbeats.  I think there's a connection there, between the fake horse sound and the moon facing off with the sun AND WINNING.  Do it.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): I never get tired of dreaming.  By day, I live a boring life where I crash around in the bushes for a while and then sit on a computer writing reports.  That sounds like the life of a drunk person, but it's an actual job.  But at night, the dreams!  Last night I dreamed I was creeping along on the eaves of the coffee shop, trying to get from the upper parking lot to the front door, when the roof came right off in my hands.  My first thought was, "wow, second time today that's happened."  (!!)  Anyway, with the roof off, gorgeous details in that old shoe store were revealed, including pressed tin wainscoting and weird botanical stencils. I was taking photos and eating cake when the police arrived to arrest me for my roof-removal spree.  Anyway, it's probably time to call my sister, who interprets my dreams.  Here's how she does it.  She says, "Take out an index card.  Ok, on one side, write down what happened in the dream.  On the other, write down what it means."  I know.  Scorpio, dream big this week.  What else is there?

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): I had another great dream the other night where I took my car in for an oil change.  A friend asked where I took it, and when I said I just parked it in Seattle on Second & James, they gave me the lecture, like, no no no, that's not how it's done, you have to make an appointment, and take it to a place, and so on.  So I flew in to the city to find my car, where I encountered a woman who promised to help if I would tag along on a few errands.  It turns out she ran an actual circus, and we had to go around the city, finding people and giving them special gifts.  She's pop into a bright little tent, hand the occupants a tube of glitter glue, and remind them that the show starts at eight.  In this pleasant way, I passed another night of my life.  Sag, spread glitter and good cheer this week.  We're counting on you!

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): I never get tired of the scent of vanilla.  It's weird how vanilla has come to mean bland, lacking an identity.  Because when you open up that little bottle of real vanilla and bring it to the nose, ... pause while you go do that... it's completely transformative.  It can shake up your whole day.  Also, because it reminds me of one of my favorite books, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, when Mick Kelly dabs vanilla behind her ear as perfume.  

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  I never tire of tracking packages.  Even when I already know, "due to arrive at the end of Wednesday", I still like to look.  Updates like "Left the facility," make me strangely happy.  (Not as happy, of course, as "out for delivery").  Aquarius, don't be like me.  Just wait patiently, and spend your time actually doing stuff.